Lunchtime ramblings # 6 or something...

Dr. Neil Savage looked out of his office window to the parking lot below. It wasn't hard to find his car - it was the bright red Corvette parked all alone in the far corner of the lot. He almost wished it was right outside his window.

She'd accused him of loving that car more than he loved her, and that was why she was leaving him. He just stared, shocked to his core. Because of a car. No, that couldn't be it. There had to be something more, something she didn't tell him. The bank accounts. Neil ran to his office and logged onto his computer, and then the bank accounts. There they were, no balance left. She'd cleaned him out. This wasn't going to be pretty. He picked up the phone.

"Tracie, can you cancel all my appointments for the rest of the day? I've had an emergency come up and I need to take care of it."

"Yes, Dr. Savage," said the voice on the other end of the line. "Is everything alright?"

"I'm not sure. Unfortunately, I have to run a few important errands all of a sudden."

He hung up the phone without waiting for a response. Grabbing his phone and coat, he ran out of the office. Once in his car, he dialed the phone.

"Hello?"
"Hi Jack, it's Neil."
"Neil, what's going on? You never call me in the middle of the day!"
"You were right, Jack. SHe's leaving me."
"Oh Shit." There was an awkward silence on the other end of the line. "Are you ok, buddy?"
"Yeah, I'll be fine. Listen, I have to run some errands and tie up some loose ends pretty quickly here. Do me a favor and have something to drink on hand tonight, huh? I'm gonna need to get a bit drunk, I think."
"Yeah, anything man. Hey, you know me - whatever you need."
"Thanks. I'll call you back later, ok?"
"Sure, no problem."

He arrived at the bank. He just had to make sure she didn't know about the deposit box. If she knew about that, he would be completely lost. He walked in and waited in the receptionist area. After the longest ten minutes he'd ever spent waiting, the receptionist called his name.

"What can I do for you today, Sir?"
"I need to whomever is in charge of the safety deposit boxes. I have a box here, and I need to get into it."

"No problem Sir," said the teller. "I'll get Mr. Gerard out here right away, Sir."

More waiting. Neil hated waiting.

A tall man came out to greet him. "I understand you have a box you;d like to look at, Sir?"

"Yes," said Neil. "Box 342, if you could. I'd like to see its contents."
"You have the proper documentation, Sir?"

Neil reached into his wallet and pulled out his ID card.
"Very good, Sir. If you step right into the next room here, I'll get your case right away."
"Thank you."
The short wait took forever, and Neil practically jumped out of his skin when Mr. Gerard came back into the room, carrying the safety deposit box. 'Will there be anything else, Sir?"
"No, thank you," said Neil as he fumbled with the key for a moment. The box opened. It was empty except for a piece of paper. He took it out and unfolded it.

It was a perfect imprint of her lips in lipstick.


Thanks for reading,

The Fat Kid

Lunchtime Ramblings....# whatever...

Jerry looked out of the doorway into the street, stretching. It wasn't the most comfortable doorway he'd ever spent the night in, but was welcome after the last few days of sweltering heat. Sometime in the last day, the weather finally broke and became cooler again. At least, he thought it was in the last day. Sometimes, the days ran together anymore. It didn't happen often, but when it did, he often lost one or two days at a time. He always woke up feeling refreshed, somehow. He was certain, though, that it couldn't be a good thing to lose track of days.

His bony fingers lifted the half-burned cigarette to his lips and he lit it, inhaling the smoke. He closed his eyes as he exhaled, the now all-too-familiar burn as it seared his lungs only hurting a moment. He hated the taste, the smell, even the feel of the damned thing. It would probably give him cancer, if it hadn't already. But smoking was what you did when you lived out here. It suppressed the appetite. It was how you coped when you couldn't get anything to eat. He laughed, and immediately began a coughing fit that lasted almost a minute. The irony - the cigarettes were killing him, but it was the only way to stay alive and not go crazy from the hunger.

He stretched out his legs. They cramped up every night, now, and he couldn't walk without first stretching them out and trying to get the blood pumping again. It didn't help when he was sleeping in cramped doorways of abandoned restaurants. But the night was nice enough that he could get away from the shelter, at least for a night. He might see if he could go back there today for some soup, but there were no guarantees.

That part, at least, he liked. Every day could be something new. Enough spare change to buy a lottery ticket and a hamburger was a good day. A pack of cigarettes was even better. He could make that last days. Sometimes, he was forced to choose between the meal and the lottery ticket. Mostly, he chose to eat. Mostly. When the cigarettes were plentiful, he could do that. There was always the hope tha maybe this time it would be different, and his numbers would work.

His numbers. He laughed again and went into another coughing fit. That was happening more and more frequently, but there was nothing he could do about that right now. His numbers. He always played the same ones: 06-17-19-98. They weren't really his - they were hers. He smiled. His ritual every morning was to spend a few minutes thinking of her, hoping that maybe today would be the day that life changed and he could see her once again. It was foolish to hope that she would ever really know him or accept him, he knew, but he just wanted to know if she was alright. It was all he lived for, now.

The cigarette burned down to the filter and went out, still in his dirty hand. He threw away the butt into the street and watched the commuters go by. He remembered what it was like, trying to eke out a living like the rest of them. He considered himself free, to a point, these days. No schedule, no time clock, no errands to run - free from all of those silly things. Yet, he was restaine, too. No resources, no food, no comfort - forced to smoke so he wouldn't feel the pain in his stomach.

He sighed as he got up out of the shelter of the doorway. Last night was a boon for him. Five dollars in change. And he had more cigarettes. Maybe he would forego eating and buy a second ticket. He shuffled down the sidewalk. Maybe he'd be able to find her today. If the nightly Cash Four worked in his favor. Just once.



Today, I saw a man sitting in a doorway on my way in to work. I don't know if he was homeless or not, but it made me think of this.

Thanks for reading.

The Fat Kid

Lunchtime Ramblings #4

Jim Robbins walked across the brick-paved courtyard towards the fountain, his pinstriped suitcoat flapping in the breeze, his best smile on his face. There she was, sitting calmly on the bench, waiting for him. He told her to dress nicely, that he was taking her out tonight, but the sight that greeted him made his smile even more grand. Here was the beautiful woman whom, if he did it just right tonight, would soon be his fiancee. He strode over to her, confident in his step. "Hi there, stranger," said Jim.

Stephanie Hudson looked up as Jim greeted her, smiling brightly in the afternoon sunshine. God, he looks great in that suit she thought. She noticed the pink tie she had bought him for Christmas around his neck. She smiled wider. "Hi there, handsome man." She stood and modeled her outfit. She planned it just for him - a silver shimmering short pencil skirt and black top - classy yet flirty, just the way he liked. The tall black espadrills completed her ensemble. "Did I do ok?"

"You did more than OK!" said Jim. "You look amazing."
"Well, you said to look my best."
"I never imagined you'd look prettier than ever! I feel underdressed."
"Well, if you'd tell me what's going on, I would have known exactly how you wanted me to dress," she joked.
"Oh no - I told you it was a surprise, and a surprise it shall remain."
"Ok, Mr. Mysterious - lead on."
"Only if I get a kiss."
"Jim," she said, "There are a lot of people around here."
"I know, I know. BUt a guy can try, right?"
"Get us alone and I'll give you a kiss you'll never forget," she winked.
"Well then, right this way," said Jim as he pointed back into the building.

The two walked away, back across the bricks and into the air-conditioned skyscraper. One, happy to be surprised, the other, sweaty palms and a ring in the pocket of his pinstriped suitcoat.


This was a short one, but it was inspired by a pair I saw outside the USX Tower this afternoon, and my hour's up.

Thanks for reading,

The Fat Kid

lunchtime ramblings #3

Hi - ummm...yeah...been bad about these things, I guess, and it looks like I'll have to do some double duty to get back on track, and it will likely take some weekend work. But let's not waste time with idle prattle, yes?


Janet sat by herself amidst the random assortment of people. She hated being here. Every week, all summer long, this was where she was expected to be. Sitting among a bunch of lunatics cheering for others just as messed up as they are. She sighed as she opened her novel and tried to sink herself in another world. Any world would do, really, as long as she could escape even in part from this hell. She sighed and put down her book, unable to get the conversation from earlier out of her mind.
"You're coming down to the track tonight?"
"I wasn't planning on it."
"Why not? You know I like it when you're there to see me race."
She sighed. Here it was. Years of putting up with this were finally about to come to a head. "I really don;t like going down there. I don;t know anyone, and I don't like any of them."
"You don't really know any of them."
"And I like it that way! Just go. Have fun, race well, and I'll be here when you get back."
"You hate it, don't you?"
"Hate what?"
"You hate that I race and I'm actually successful at it, don't you?"
"I hate the fact that it takes so much time and that it's the only thing you seem to think about."
"You know that's not true," he said. "I spend a lot of time with you! What about last weekend? We had a great time!"
"Oh great! We go and have a great weekend, only to come home and have the same problems waiting here for us!"
"Like what? What problems are you talking about??"
"Oh, never mind! You wouldn't understand."
"You're right, I don't understand. I don't understand why it is that you can't be supportive of something that's good for me."
"I sit there every week, being ignored by everyone, and you say I don;t support you?"
"You sit there with your nose in a book every chance you get. You don't try to meet people, you don't try to have fun. How is it supportive when you don't even talk to anyone?"
"I'm there for you, not them."
He had let the conversation go there, but she knew it wasn't over. Not by a long shot. Looking around her, the small crowd was broken up into several groups of threes and fours, all talking away about something or other. She didn't know any of these people, and she felt like an outsider. She WAS an outsider. She knew nothing about this sport, and didn't understand it. The last time she was even on a bike was so long ago she could barely remember.
She looked back down at the book, and thought about escaping back into it again, but knew it was hopeless. She would never be able to concentrate, not with what she was feeling now. She still didn't know why she was here.
"Please?"
That was it. He asked her to come with just that word. And she found herself here, wishing she was somewhere else. This mattered to him. That was enough for today.
She got up from her seat on the bleachers and went to the car, where he was putting his bike away. The race was over, and as always, he did nothing special in it. He won no money or honors of any sort. She went to walk past him and get in the car.
"Thank you," he said, "for being here tonight."
Janet sighed. "You're welcome," she said, "and I'm sorry about earlier."
"Me too. Want to hit a bar for a drink or two? Just us?"
"No," she said. "You're all stinky and disgusting."
He laughed. "I'll shower up as soon as we get home." Then he smiled at her.
She loved that smile. It melted her, most days, and he knew it. "Well, if you don't, you're sleeping in the car."


This long-awaited snippet was thought of while watching a woman at the track last night at the "Tuesday Night World Championships." What are those?? Local bike races - cool stuff.

Thanks for reading.

The Fat Kid

Lunchtime Ramblings #2

Karinaya Doon looked out the window of her chambers and over the city that stretched out below. The sun had set only a hort time ago, and the reddened skies tinted the whole city with color. The copper roofs on many opf the houses that gleamed on the daytime now reflected the last lights of the day and looked as though the city was engulfed in flame. Travelers called it the Burning City for that purpose. It was her favorite time of day.
A knock came on the thick chamber door, a low rumbling that echoed through the chamber with its high ceilings and thick stone walls. "Come," she said.
The door swung open only a bit, and a thin pagebopy walked in and bowed. "If it pleases Your Highness, I was asked to come and fetch you to dinner," said the lad.
"Thank you, Gaarnin," she said. "Please tell my mother and father that I will be there shortly.
The boy bowed quickly and sped off, without the customary goodbye all the servants usually gave.
Karinaya just smiled after him. She liked Gaarnin. The youth had been living here in the castle for a good many years now, and was one of the most trusted servants she knew. If she needed something done discreetly, Gaarnin was sent for. Not that she had much of a call for those kinds of things, but she knew that if she ever needed them, Gaarnin was available. If she could ever find him not in the employ of someone else, that is. She often wondered just how much the boy knew about the comings and goings of all the people in the palace. She shuddered at the concept and grabbed her dining cloak.
Fastening it as she made her way through the dreary damp of the castle walkways, she eventually found herself at the entrance to the grand hallway. The room was the main audience chamber for her father, the King of Darhunlund, and as such, was decorated ornately. Suits of armor stood alpong the ouside edges on small pedestals, large tapestries covered the yellow stone walls, and large timbers overhead supported the massive chandeliers that hung idle. The room was not used very often, but her father, King Alaeon, made sure that the room was used at least during the harvest season for the Festival of the Three Moons. Karinaya remembered always being fearful of the room, as though the suits of armor would come alive and track her down. She knew better, of course, but could not shake the feeling that there was something in that room that should not be there.
She made it to the other side of the grand hall and went quickly through the small wooden door and into the kitchens behind it. She knew she wasn;t supposed to use this path to get to the normal dining, but she was already late. She made her way quickly, past cooks who were surprised to see her and serving women who were not. She relieved an apple on her way, and was happily munching it by the time she reached the far end of the kitchen. Karinaya sighed. She hated this next part most of all.
First, her mother would be very pleased to see her, but would tell her that she didn;t look enough like a lady for the royalty that she was. He father would be disappointed that she was late. Her older brother, Cryill, would nag at her about how if she would just do as they all asked of her, life would be that much better. It was the same every week when they all actually gathered for supper. Most of the times, Karinaya was able to master her own schedule, but never on the Ludisday. There was always a big family feast that more often than not had nothing to do with family than it did fighting and bickering. Her parents and brother were one thing, and she didn;t really mind them that much at all, but it was the extended family that she really couldn't stand.
Her uncles, all three of them, Borjin, Greyon, and Rahmain, were the worst. All three seemed to think that it was all right to treat her and her mother as though they were nothing more than common lodge wenches! The last time, Borjin went too far, and she made him pay by knocking a full tankard of the hot mulled wine onto his lap.
She sighed as she pushed open the door. If she was lucky, they would be too engrossed in their endless conversations about politics to notice where she came from. She closed the door quietly and turned, finding herself face-to face with Cryill.
"Father's in a particularly foul mood today, Sister," he said. "I shouldn;t wonder but if he saw you come in here through that door he would threaten to have it walled up."
"Then he'll have to wait longer for his food," she retorted. "Will everyone be here?"
"I'm not sure," he said. "But, for the good of the country, do try and be civil to everyone for once?"
"You know the rules as well as I do, Cryill. Never make a scene that could result in someone being embarrassed."
"THen we're agreed," he said. "You'll behave like a proper princess should?"
"Just as long as those three uncles of ours stay away from me, I should be just fine."
"Well, then, you''re in luck. They've been drinking their way across the city this morning to get here. None of them can stand anymore."
"Come on," she said taking his arm, "let's get this over with."



Today's seen was inspired by the many yellow brick buildings that I see along my various travels. While it doesn;t take center-stage, that's where it started.

Thanks for reading,

The Fat Kid

Lunchtime Ramblings, #1

Sarah Murrell looked at the clock on the dashboard of her Honda. Late again. It never failed, but every Monday morning, she was always late getting out of the garage and on her way to work. It was always the same time, too - 6:20 AM. Twenty minutes. She'd tried everything she could think of: going to bed earlier, setting the alarm earlier, making her lunch the night before, even showering the night before, and nothing seemed to work. Every other day of the week, she was early. Never on Monday.

As she backed the car out of the driveway, she cursed under her breath. Mondays were the worst, too. Inventories were due. After a long weekend of part-time shift-workers, the factory stores had to all be accounted for, and it fell to her to make sure the numbers all worked out. Not a bad job if you were counting boxes of paperclips, but counting rods of steel, brass, and other metals left a lot to be desired. It would be worse iff the part-timers didn't put everything back where it belonged.

The honda lurched to a stop at the intersection, and Sarah felt her thoughts straying back to last night night, her comfy bed, and the weekend. For a second, she searched the center console, finding the napkin with a hastily scrawled phone number on it. She debated about calling all weekend, but chickened out. "It was just a guy at the bar," she said aloud. "Probably looking to get lucky." She tossed the napkin absent-mindedly onto the passanger seat. "He probably wouldn't answer if I called."

She flicked the radio on, and her favorite station began pumping music through the speakers. It wasn't long before the DJ came on the air with a caller.

"Yeah, this WXFM, whatcha got for me, Caller?"
"Hi, How are you this morning?"
"Not too bad for a Monday, what can I play for you?"
"Well, I was out at the bar Friday night, and I met someone..."
"Good for you - did you take her home?"

Sarah laughed. Another jerk trying to brag about the weekend conquests.

"No man, it wasn't like that - this girl was really cool, and while I would have liked to, that's just not safe these days!"
"I hear you! So you met this girl - what happened?"
"Well, we talked a little, and shared a few drinks, danced a couple times - it was just a nice night, you know?"
"So you were a gentleman? I mean, that kinda sounds like how I would treat my sister-in-law when she comes into town!"
The caller laughed. "Yeah, I've made my mistakes and had some fun in the past, but I'm not trying to do that stuff anymore."
"Well, good for you, man. So you were a nice guy. Nobody came and stole her away?"
"No way - she was out with some friends, and they tried to get her to follow them out to another bar, but she stayed there with me and we just talked and had a nice time."
"I don't know man," said the DJ, "Sunds like it might have been kinda lame for a Friday night!"
"Somehow, I didn't care!"
"Well, I'm glad for you - so, did you get her phone number?"
"Nope - I didn't even ask for it, but I gave her mine."
THe DJ snickered. "I have to tell you, that's never really worked out well for anyone I've ever known!)
"Well, I figured that I'd give her the option. Anyway, I know she listens to this station, and I know her favorite song, so I was hoping that you could play it for me, and if she's listening maybe she'll call that number?"
"I'll certainly the song for you, but I can't make any promises about her - what's the song?"
"Can you play "Remind Me?""
"The new one from Brad Paisley?"
"That's the one - she said it was her favorite song."
"Can I have a name for this request?"
"Yeah, can you send it out to Sarah?"
"I can do that - what's your name?"
"I'm Paul."
"OK I'll get on that, you have a good day, and what's your favorite radio station?"
"WXFM Country!"

Sarah sat there, stunned for a moment as she heard the caller hang up.

"That's right folks, we love to do this stuff, and Sarah, if you're listening out there, this guy seems like he might be the genuine article. You have his number - the next move is up to you!"

The song came on the radio and Sarah sighed. She'd told him that this was her favorite song. She glanced at the number again on the seat next to her. It was crazy, she knew, but she really wanted to call. This couldn't be real, could it? This kind of thing never happened to her! She picked up her phone anyway and blocked the number. Well, she should at least be safe about this. She dialed quickly.

"Hello?"
"Hi Paul?"
"Yes?"
"This is Sarah. I...I just wanted to say thanks for playing that song on the radio."




Today's fiction came from watching a girl in her car on her way to work this morning. It's a bit sappy, and maybe a bit unrealistic, but hey, it's fiction!!!

Thanks for reading.

THe Fat Kid.

New experiment...

Hello, all you readers of the blogosphere!!

I've been thinking lately about the next great writing endeavor that I shall challenge myself to complete, and I was having a tough time of it until a good friend unknowingly supplied the answer. I call it the Lunchtime Ramble, and here's the challenge: fiction writing on a time-budget. 60 minutes a day, 5 days a week, for the next 4 weeks, I write a short-short fiction tale. It can be about anything, taking inspiration from anywhere. These may develop into longer stories and tales, they may not, but once again, the idea here is an exercise in writing on a limited time-budget. It's a skill, and I kinda need to practice it. So that's the challenge.

Now for the audience participation part!! What? - you knew this would be coming along! I need topics. Now, I can supply my own, from things I see and hear to things I might experience first-hand, but why stop there? What if YOU were to supply me with a place to start? Yeah...a writing prompt is what I'm looking for!! So here we go - this is going to kick off on Monday, July 11th, so you have the weekend - if you have a writing prompt, send it to me, post it on here - whatever. If you have an image you want me to use, send it along and I'll see if I can come up with something. No guarantees on that one - and assuming I'll get more than one photo, I GET FINAL SAY ON WHAT PHOTO I USE. So while you're out and about and see anything that makes you wonder how it happened, or what's going to happen next, snap a photo, send it to me, and we'll see what happens!!!

By the way, this will be a LOT more entertaining if you all actually participate (I'm looking at you, biking friends)!!! So send me your photos of beat up cars, of dogs tied to fire hydrants, messy children, and riders with busted knees!! Let's do this thing!!!

Thanks for reading,

The Fat Kid